Sleeping Habits
by MrsRen
Summary: She has nightmares. It's a fact. And Sirius Black is all too happy to help. The five times Hermione and Sirius sleep together and the one time they really sleep together.


**Written for Frumpologist. You are one of the greatest friends I have made in this fandom. You are supportive, and enabling, and a complete and utter joy to know. You said your OTP was sirimione, and being holed up in Grimmauld post-war. Thank you for making my covers for me until the end of time, and being here. **

**Beta'd by LaBelladoneX, and inspired by the rest of my sirimione girls. **

* * *

_Grimmauld Place _

_January 2000_

The bannister was smooth beneath her touch, and the wall adjacent was bare. The portraits which had screamed at her for weeks upon moving into Grimmauld had been torn down. Previously, Hermione had thought it would be next to impossible to pull the cursed objects away from the walls.

Until Sirius came home and in a fit of drunken rage, unleashed Fiendfyre.

She could remember the night all too clearly. The wallpaper that creeped toward the vaulted ceilings was singed and now there was a white spot where Walburga's portrait had hung. His outburst caused a team of aurors to be called in, and when Harry asked him why…

"_What in the bloody fuck were you thinking? You could have killed yourself, you could have killed Hermione while you were at it!" The raven haired boy seethed, motioning to the stripped wall behind him. _

_Sirius bit his lip, his eyes flashing, as amber liquid sloshed around the bottle he gripped in his hand. "I was sick of the bitch, and don't fool yourself, Harry. As if I would let anything happen to Hermione." _

She paused on the stairwell, a traitorous shiver unfurling on her spine as she thought of the way he'd said her name. It was reminiscent of a growl, not his low timber that she was used to. It was nothing, Hermione assured herself as she stared at the wall, willing the piercing voice to fill her ears.

Walburga's voice was gone, as was the rest of the portraits in the ancient home. At the very least, he'd waited for her to be out before using Fiendfyre the subsequent times.

Grimmauld Place was still as dreary as it had ever been on the inside, but after two years, it was beginning to feel more like a home. Following the end of the war, anyone who knew her expected Hermione to return to Hogwarts for her final year. Of course the boys weren't going to, they had never valued knowledge quite as much as she did. Was there a solid reason for not returning? Hermione thought it was a collection of reasons, of moments, and she didn't feel anyone was entitled to her thoughts.

She settled for a half truth, and said she couldn't separate the final battle from the school she loved so dearly. Hermione couldn't make the transition between warrior and student, and she sat for her NEWT's, but made a seamless switch into the Ministry.

"You're up early," he rasped behind her. His fingers brushed through her curls, calloused fingers sliding along the bare skin of her neck. "What's on your mind, kitten?"

She swallowed, falling into the seat at the table. "Nothing of importance," she murmured. "I just couldn't sleep."

He shook his head, putting the kettle on. "You're a terrible liar."

Hermione lifted her head, her retort quick and she only regretted it when his face fell. "I had Bellatrix fooled."

Sirius sighed, running his hand through dark hair. His silver ring shone beneath the lights as his lips set into a flat line. "You couldn't sleep? How many times have I told you my door is always open if you have a nightmare?"

The briefest bit of colour rose to her cheeks. Hermione grimaced. "It's enough that you allow me to live here. You don't have to comfort me."

He rolled his eyes, leaning back in the seat across from her. "Shut up."

"Pardon?"

"You heard me. We both know you could live anywhere you wanted to. With Harry, or Ron. Merlin, you could have a flat of your own, but you stay here with me," Sirius said, tapping his fingers against the cracked wood table. It was only a few bumps away from falling completely apart. "Now I'd ask you why that is, but…" he trailed off with a grin.

Truly, she didn't need the topic of her little, _minor,_ infatuation with the older man surfacing. "Not that it's any of your business, but I worry about you. I didn't want you to be alone. It doesn't hurt that you're nice company."

"Nice company," he repeated with a snort. "What you mean to say is that I'm easy on the eyes." Sirius reached across the table to take her hand. "Why couldn't you sleep?"

Hermione looked away, hair falling from her ponytail. The kitchen they sat in was shambled despite her many cleaning charms, and - he was waiting for her to reply. Waiting rather patiently too by the way his thumb slowly stroked her scarred knuckles. "It was just a nightmare." she sighed. She lifted her gaze, and her breath caught in her throat.

Sirius Black had the unrivaled ability to make her feel like he was seeing her, rather than through her. A frequent drinker he might be, but he never missed the smallest details. There were several examples she could mention right away - last week he'd noticed her new perfume, the week before he'd remarked that she'd trimmed her hair, and last Easter, she'd come home to presents to distract her - but it wouldn't do to be caught up in them.

"It's not _just_ a nightmare," Sirius murmured, his voice barely above the whistling kettle. "Why don't we have a cuppa and then we can go upstairs?"

Her eyes widened at the implication in his tone. This was simply not him saying they should return to bed; this was something else. "_What?" _

He smiled, and she was struck by the thought of just how handsome he looked when he did smile. Sirius smirked, or roared with laughter, but it wasn't so often she saw a genuine smile. "You let me lay my head in your lap in the library when I couldn't sleep," he recalled, rising from his seat.

She frowned. It wasn't that the prospect was unpleasant, quite the opposite really, but it threw her for a moment. Hermione spluttered, "Are you suggesting I lay my head in your lap?"

Sirius barked a laugh. "No, kitten, but I think you just need someone near you. Harry mentioned it once, that he used to hold your hand."

She remembered the summer following the war all too well. Riddled with hormones that were just then beginning to surface following the stress of the war, she and Ron had broken up. Ginny and Harry hadn't lasted. And when she woke the Burrow with her screams, Harry held her hand.

"It's not my goal to take advantage of you if that's what you're worried about," he continued, his back to her. He hadn't bothered with a shirt before coming downstairs and the muscles of his back contorted as he reached into the upper cupboards. "Maybe Padfoot would be preferable?"

Hermione nodded. While she was more than curious as to what his hard body would feel like pressed flushed to hers, it was more likely she'd rub herself against him in her sleep and she couldn't have that. "Okay."

She was silent as she drank her tea, and grew sleepy once more.

"Yours or mine? Nevermind, mine is the best choice," Sirius said as they climbed the stairs.

She squeaked, "What?"

"My bed is the comfier of the two," he replied, grabbing her hand and tugging her down the hallway.

She'd been in his room before. It wasn't as if it was off limits, but she'd never slept there. Hermione stood frozen in the doorway, eyeing the bed in mild terror.

Sirius chuckled and bent down. Within seconds, Padfoot sat at her feet, his tail brushing against the wooden floor as it swished back and forth. He slid behind her, pressing his cold nose to the back of her knee and urging her forward with a whine.

"Fine," she huffed, padding across the floor and climbing into his large bed. "Merlin, you weren't lying. Why is your bed so much comfier?"

He exhaled through his nose harshly and she imagined he was laughing. Padfoot didn't sneak below the blankets with her. Rather he curled up against her, and laid his head on her arm.

She slid her fingers through his fur, scratching behind his ears. "I'm not actually sure if you like that," Hermione laughed softly. "Night, Sirius."

He whimpered a reply and licked her face.

* * *

_Ministry of Magic_

_February, 2000_

Her floor was in a state of disarray. Owls had begun arriving with bouquets of flowers and an obscene amount of chocolate. While it was a slow day regardless with Valentine's Day, she could have done without the high pitched squeal of Lavender Brown.

The woman was as giggly and loud as she'd been in school. They were long past the previous rivalry that boiled down to a certain ginger-haired auror. At least, Hermione was. Lavender burst into her office despite the secretary's protests. "Oh, 'Mione! Look what Ronnie-Icklekins sent me."

If it wasn't considered rude, Hermione would have vomited into her rubbish bin on the spot. Instead, she wore a polite smile and rolled up the parchment on her desk. "What is it?"

The blonde leaned forward, displaying what was definitely a break in the regulation dress code. She'd foregone her robes, and had undone the top several buttons of her top, showcasing her cleavage. Cleavage that nearly fucking swallowed the dinky necklace around her neck.

"It's beautiful, Lavender." Hermione gave her a smile, and rose from her seat. "I need to dash, but I'm so happy for you!" It wasn't a lie, but there was the lingering fact that Lavender was only showing her to see if she could coax a reaction.

When there was no catty display of jealousy, Lavender stuck her nose into the air and breezed through the entryway of the office just as easily as she'd come.

"Miss Granger?"

She lifted her head, scribbling her signature on one last document, to see a delivery man in the space Lavender had just vacated. "Yes." She cleared her throat. "That would be me. How can I help you?"

He hurried into her office, waving his wand before pointing to her desk. "You have a delivery," he said smoothly as if a flower shop popping up inside a room was something he'd seen before.

"Merlin," Hermione choked, her hand flying to her mouth. "Is this from one person? Surely there must be some sort of mistake?"

He shook his head. "I thought so too since it's not everyday your shop is bought out. Some have been imported as well, and there as others in the corridor that would have never fit." The man chuckled and slid a slip of parchment onto the small space of her desk that _wasn't _covered. "If I could just get your magical signature right here," he pointed.

She balked. "Is there no card? I'd really like to know who sent me a bloody flower shop," Hermione muttered, tapping her wand to the parchment. "Sir?"

He shrugged. "He insisted that he wouldn't need a card, and that you would know who he was."

Hermione bristled. "Yes, well… I don't." Glancing around the office, she lifted the nearest vase. It was, without a doubt, the most extravagant surprise she'd ever received.

"Like the flowers, kitten?" Came a rasping voice, and he was smirking. She could tell by his voice.

She set the vase down, whirling around with an incredulous look on her face. "Sirius Black," Hermione yelled, storming up to him, and jabbing a finger into his chest. "Did you do this?"

He slid his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, grinning like the devil he was. "There's a good chance of that, yes. Is that a problem?"

Her heart felt like it was slamming against her rib cage. Her brows drew together. "But why?"

Sirius leaned forward, and she was well aware that the entire floor must have gathered to watch them. His lips brushed her ear as he whispered, "You said the other night that you'd never received flowers. I told you I was going to fix that."

She remembered the moment well. Hermione had made a bit of a habit of sleeping in his bedroom, and he was always Padfoot. But in the morning, he wasn't. Sirius had just stepped out of the shower, a thin towel slung low around his hips, and he'd asked her what she was doing for the loveliest holiday of the year.

"Oh, my gods," she whispered, peering over his shoulder. "You know, everyone in the Wizarding World will think you fancy me now."

He shrugged. "Then I suppose you'd better make it clear now that you have no interest in an old man," he grinned, his eyes bright, and if it was possible for her heart to skip a beat, it surely would have.

She snorted. "_Witch Weekly_ would crucify me. Besides, the look on Lavender's face is more than slightly satisfying." Her eyes shot open as he walked her backwards into her office, and his boot thudded against the door as he kicked it shut. "Sirius, everyone is going to think you shagged me stupid."

Sirius laughed. "Well, we are going to sleep together, but not in the capacity you're thinking. Besides, I would need more than an hour, and really, I'm not above shagging someone in the Ministry, but —"

"You say that as if you've done it before."

He blinked. "Shagged someone in the Ministry? Oh, without a doubt. Now, let me just..." Sirius moved the flowers from her couch to the corner, casting a Stasis charm so they wouldn't be crushed. "Did you think I noticed when you didn't sleep last night?"

Her lips parted and her eyebrows nearly shot into her hairline. "I was busy!" Hermione snapped, but sat on the couch after removing her robes. "I don't need to nap on my lunch hour and technically I have a meeting in half an hour."

Sirius didn't turn into Padfoot. Instead he sat at the end of the couch, slid an arm around her shoulders and let her lay on him. "Never fear, kitten. I had your secretary bump it to tomorrow. All it took was flirting and some charm."

In the end, Hermione fell right asleep to the soothing circles he rubbed in her back. She might have murmured that maybe Padfoot was warmer, but she could get used to having Sirius instead.

She really _hoped_ she hadn't said that.

* * *

_The Three Broomsticks_

_March 2000_

Surrounded by laughter, Hermione couldn't help but notice the glum look on George's face. The only reason they were celebrating his birthday early was an easy one. It was impossible to get George out of the house when April 1st rolled around, as he would be flipping through magical photo albums that reminded him of easier times.

The weight of the shared loss of Fred was heaviest on his birthday, May 2nd, and Christmas. While the entire family was still shattered from the loss nearly two years earlier, it was hardest for George.

She caught his eye and George told her to get the sad look off of her face. "You first!" Hermione laughed, tucking rampant curls behind her ears. "I'm glad you came."

"As if any of you lot would have let me skip out," George smiled from ear to ear. "Don't tell anyone else, but I'm glad too."

Hermione grinned. "Fancy a wager?"

"What sort?" George asked, leaning back in his chair. He glanced to their friends around them, his party in full swing. "The sort that involves booze?"

She nodded. "Quite a bit of it too. I recall you asked on your birthday last year for a drinking contest."

His eyes shot open and he ran his fingers through his hair. "Really? You told me you'd never do that."

Hermione shrugged, already standing from her seat. "You still haven't wiped that solemn look from your face. Desperate times call for desperate measures." She winked before sidestepping Harry and Ginny.

The Three Broomsticks reminded her of Hogsmeade, for plainly obvious reasons. Hogsmeade reminded her of Hogwarts. And Hogwarts, well, it reminded her of a plethora of things, some lovely, and some things that only existed in her nightmares. Madam Rosmerta smiled at her from behind the bar, coming to tend to Hermione after setting two heavy mugs in front of a pair of old men.

"How are you?" Rosmerta poured her a Butterbeer, sliding it across the bar with a smooth movement. "No Butterbeer tonight?" She cocked her head to the side as Hermione pushed it back.

She rummaged around in her pockets. "Not tonight. I need a bottle of Firewhisky"

If Rosmerta had an opinion, and judging from the shiftiness of her eyes, she definitely did, she chose not to say anything. Instead she reached below the counter and set it in front of Hermione with a hard _thud!_ "Don't worry about it."

"On the house?" Hermione quirked an eyebrow.

Rosmerta laughed. "Oh, Merlin, no. I'm putting this on Sirius' tab."

Hermione snorted at that. "It's rather bold of you to assume he'll pay it."

The older woman winked. "Not to worry, dear. There are many ways for Sirius Black to offer repayment." The innuendo was unmistakable.

Hermione's stomach rolled, and there was no reason for it, none at all. But she gave a stiff nod and turned away. Yes, a row of seemingly bottomless shots sounded better and better.

* * *

Here's the thing about George Weasley - he'd always been sweet, and flirtatious. He'd make jokes that made anyone laugh until their sides hurt, and he was more _himself_ when he was inebriated, rather than trying to act like two people at once.

"Merlin, you said you could hold your liquor!" He cried, stumbling with her as he guided her into the women's loo. "Are you going to vomit?"

"Probably," she muttered. Hermione winced as he mistakenly let the door catch her shoulder. "Ow, fuck!" She shouted, wrenching her arm free. It felt like the world was spinning a bit as she tried to catch herself. Putting her feet flat against the wooden flooring shouldn't have been as hard as it was.

Instead of her back hitting the wall, which was what she'd thought was the worst possible outcome, Hermione's vision was solely fixed on the lights overhead. George crouched over her, worry claiming his features as he frantically held up two fingers. "Are you okay?"

Hermione giggled, her hands flat at her sides. "I'm seeing double."

He chuckled, sliding his open palm under her head. "Let me see if you cracked your head."

"Humpty Dumpty had a great fall," Hermione began.

"Hush, Hermione," George said softly. "No blood. That's a relief. I ought to get you home now," he continued, helping her sit up. He sat in front of her, his legs crossed even though the floor of the loo must have been filthy.

She shook her head. "I'm fine. I could even drink more since I don't feel so ill anymore." Hermione attempted to reassure him, but he wasn't buying it.

"I want you to have a good night. Carting me around won't do much to help with that."

He waved her off. "Seeing you get completely and utterly pissed has vastly improved my night. Plus you're already going to feel like you drank half of the pub in the morning." The thought of waking to sun trickling through curtains was horrifying. "I'll gather your things. Meet me by the Floo?"

Hermione took his hand as he helped her off the floor. Exiting the loo, and earning a handful of scandalised looks, she turned her nose up and hurried towards the Floo. George was handing her the coat she'd peeled off her shoulders earlier that night and stepping into the fireplace beside her.

"Grimmauld?" He asked.

"Yes," she replied, and just as he called out the address, she noticed Sirius' shocked face from across the inn.

* * *

Hermione coughed as they landed in her home, and she stepped away from George. "Thank you bringing me home. You'll get home okay, won't you?"

He gave her a lopsided smile, bending to kiss the top of her head. "Ronnie-Icklekins really missed out when he lost you. I'll be fine, 'Mione. I'll send an owl in the morning to gloat that you have a hangover and I don't."

She glared at him. "How gentlemanly," she snorted. "Goodnight, George."

He stepped back into the fireplace with a handful of Floo powder. George gave her a two finger salute as he threw down the powder, calling out the address of his flat.

Left in silence, Hermione looked around the living room. She wasn't sure if Sirius would be home tonight, and she started toward the stairs. Just as her hand met the railing, the Floo roared to life behind her. Had George gotten turned around somehow?

"Sirius?" She gaped at the sight of him.

Yes, on any day Sirius Black was an attractive man. Since the Veil had spit him out, he had come a long way in terms of physical health. Where his clothes had fallen off of him before, they were tight against his muscled chest and biceps. It didn't take much to know Sirius was a formidable wizard. He'd escaped Azkaban once upon a time.

Hermione's mouth dried; he'd never looked as intimidating as he did then. Tall, dark, and with eyes that were boring into hers, she was frozen to the spot. "Sirius? I didn't think you would be home."

He blinked. "Why the fuck wouldn't I be home?"

If she weren't drunk, she wouldn't spit out the first thing that came to mind, which was the truth. If she weren't drunk, she wouldn't have forgotten what he'd just said. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Sirius took three long steps towards her, his chest bumping against hers. "Why didn't you think I would come home?"

"Oh," she breathed, blinking. Hermione felt as if she were swaying as the room spun. She placed her palms flat on his hard chest, her eyes widening. "It's nothing. Madam Rosmerta said that you would be using other means to pay off your tab. Or she insinuated as much. I assumed your tab was big enough before I added Firewhisky to it to keep you busy the entire night."

Sirius' lips parted in surprise as she reached up to thread her fingers through his hair. "Kitten, you realize that I'm in control of my vaults now, don't you? Not only can I pay my tab, I could buy Hogsmeade."

"So modest," she laughed, her finger sliding down his throat to trace his collarbone. Hermione shrugged. "I suppose I assumed you would want to pay it off that way? She certainly made it sound as if it happened often."

He smirked as he walked her backward, pinning her to the railing. "Would you be jealous if it had?"

While she was pissed, Hermione kept her mouth shut. She didn't need a crush to ruin the life and friendship she had. Not to mention, he was Harry's godfather. "Why did you come home, Sirius?"

His playfulness vanished. "I thought you were going home with George."

She tilted her head to the side. "Would you be jealous if I had?" It was blisteringly clear that she'd hit a nerve.

Sirius pressed her to the railing, his knee sliding between her legs. His lips were on hers, and his fingers were caught in her tangled mess of curls. He nipped her lips as she gasped against him, her hands flying to his arms and her nails biting into the skin there.

"Sirius," she whimpered, pressing her weight down as his hand slipped down her belly, his fingers pressing to her clit through her jeans. "Oh, fuck!"

He chuckled as he pulled away, but he was suddenly quiet once more. "I should have done that for the first time when you were sober."

"I don't have any complaints." she breathed.

"None?"

"I'll have a complaint if you don't finish what you've started," Hermione murmured.

He shook his head. "I want you," Sirius told her, bending to whisper in her ear. "I've wanted you since you moved in with me, kitten, but whenever I take you-" his thumb slid across her bottom lip "-whenever I fuck you, it will be more than a drunken shag that you're not sure you'll regret."

It was on the tip of her tongue how she'd already wanted him. Sleeping in the same bed as him was torture because all she wanted was for him to be Sirius rather than his Animagus form, but that wasn't what came out of her mouth at all. "Quite understandable. I can take care of myself tonight then."

His brows shot up. "What does that mean, kitten?"

Hermione started up the stairs with a shrug and waving her fingers. She doubted he would be getting much sleep in the bedroom beside her. In fact she was counting on it.

* * *

_April 2000 _

_Grimmauld Place _

After the incident the month before, in which she had been moments from begging Sirius to shag her stupid on the stairs, Hermione had wound up in his bed. Not in the sense that she would have preferred, though. Even after she'd fucked herself with her fingers, whimpering into a pillow, she'd still ended up sleeping beside him on the night of George's party.

Only after a shower, and with him shifted into Padfoot.

While nothing had really changed, there were several shifts in their day-to-day behavior. Sirius and Hermione hadn't talked about that night, not of what it entailed, and certainly not of how they still wanted the other. The last one didn't need to be said.

He had picked up the habit of conveniently leaving his towel in his room whenever he showered. Now, Hermione wasn't about to complain about seeing his cock, his arse, or even the hard lines of his abdomen, but she wouldn't be the one to cave first either.

Since friends or family so rarely visited, Hermione preferred to walk around in simple knit shirt, and her knickers. She didn't wear a bra. It was incredibly satisfying to watch it drive Sirius insane.

"Can you pass the bacon?" Sirius asked. He didn't look at her.

Hermione hummed. "No."

His head snapped up. "No?" Sirius repeated.

She shrugged, and pushed her hair over her shoulder as she bit into the last ration of bacon, a smug smirk on her face. "No," Hermione said definitively as she stood from her seat. "I'll see you when I get home."

* * *

For what she thought were obvious reasons, Hermione hadn't told anyone about her and Sirus. Not that they were anything, but there was something they were stubbornly dancing around. If any of her friends had known, she probably wouldn't have ended up on a blind date.

As the formidable witch she was, Hermione Granger should have been able to decline a blind match, courtesy of Ginny and Luna.

The restaurant was bathed in low light, a small candle in the middle of the table. Hermione did her best to act interested as she was regaled with Quidditch tales, but the effect of what she considered a barbaric sport was just as lost on her as it had ever been. Having tuned him out, mentally cataloguing what she would need to do when she walked through the atrium in twelve hours, Hermione didn't hear him change the subject.

"I'm sorry," she apologised, her cheeks filling with color. "I'm normally more attentive, but it's been a long day." Hermione lifted her wine glass to her lips, and tried to appear invisible.

Cormac McLaggen wasn't her type, not in the slightest, but her two female friends had insisted they weren't looking for a relationship for Hermione. They were searching for someone to take care of her, ahem, _needs_. From how the date was going - with his foot sliding up the inner part of her thigh - Cormac seemed to believe it would be ending on a carnal note.

"I have an early start to my day tomorrow," Hermione began, rummaging around in her clutch. She laid two Galleons on the table, enough for half of their bill, and a sizable tip. "I assume my friends left you with the wrong idea of how this night would end, but I'm not that type of witch."

Confusion covered his features. "A bit shocking since you've been shacked up with that Black forever."

As she stood, Hermione tipped her head back and laughed. "Oh, Cormac, surely you're aware that if I was shagging Sirius Black, I'd never give you the time of day. Don't be silly. Have a good night." With a smirk on her face, as a rather familiar fantasy played across her mind, she made her way out of the restaurant before she Apparated.

* * *

He took her by surprise.

Hermione's feet had just touched the floor of her bedroom when she found herself pressed to the wall, and staring into dark eyes. "What are you doing?"

"How was your date?" was his only response. His jaw was tight, but the grip he had on her arms left her room to wriggle free if she wanted.

She swallowed and shrugged her shoulders. "Mediocre. All he would talk about was Quidditch and a bint he took out last week from the Holyhead Harpies. Honestly, he was only interested in getting into my knickers, so I left him in the restaurant. What's it to you?" Hermione grinned, making no movement to escape from where he nearly had her pinned. Heat radiated from his broad chest.

"Careful," he warned as she poked his chest.

"Were you jealous?" She asked, and the room fell silent.

Apart from his labored breathing, which was still barely noticeable, Sirius said nothing. Though he leaned forward until his forehead rested against hers. "What would you say if I was?" He murmured, wrapping a curl around his finger.

She shifted, her spine still flush against the wall as she stared up at him. "I suppose I would tell you to do something. Or I might ask you why you're jealous even though I know why. I would want to hear you say it out loud, admit that you've been watching me everyday as if you're imagining all the wicked things you'd like to do to me."

He traced her lower lip with his thumb. "To you, with you," Sirius whispered, his eyes bright with mischief. "Wearing your knickers to breakfast is downright cruel of you, kitten."

She bit her lip. "I was hoping it would push you to do something. It's been radio silence since the night of George's party even though you made what you wanted clear."

Sirius' lips parted. "Hermione —"

Hermione huffed. "Which leads me to wonder why you've done nothing. It's not as if you haven't had the option. For Merlin's sake, we sleep in the same bed every night."

His hands came down on the wall on either side of her head. "I sleep in the same bed as you only when I'm Padfoot for a reason, kitten."

She arched an eyebrow, glaring at him. "Oh? Is it because you're all bark and no bite? You act as if you want to take me, but you truly don't? It's the only reason I can come up with, and I'd rather you tell me the truth."

"First of all," he growled, "will you ever stop with the bloody dog jokes?"

She turned her nose up and delicately sniffed. "Absolutely not. You get fur all over the bed and you've whacked me with your monstrously huge paws once or twice."

He rolled his eyes. "It was once." Sirius paused, heaving a sigh. "You can't want this, me... this," he muttered.

Hermione tilted her head to the side. "I do."

He shook his head. "I'm too old for you."

And whatever she expected him to say, it hadn't been that. This wasn't the line of conversation she would have ever expected. Sirius Black, who was always cocky, and smug, and confident. "Sirius, do you know Legilimency?" She asked quietly, never breaking eye contact.

"I was an Auror under Mad-Eye Moody," he scoffed. "He would have never let me into the field without it."

Her mouth dried. Was she really going to offer these memories up? It was certainly embarrassing the longer she thought about it. "Use it, right now," she whispered.

To her surprise, Sirius didn't question her sudden command. With his wand in hand, he whispered, "_Legilimens_." His reaction was near instant. Sirius' brows shot up in disbelief, and his free hand gripped her waist, his thumb brushing along the indentation of her hip.

"Sweet fucking Circe," he growled.

Her face heated up as she knew what he was watching, still watching for that matter. She was lying in her bed in the memory, still wearing the same clothes after he'd snogged her the first time. Her hand was between her creamy thighs, two fingers furiously rubbing her clit as her other hand grasped her breast, fingers pinching a pebbled nipple. Her back arched off the bed, an unmistakable name falling from her lips in a feverish whimper.

"_Sirius."_

Hermione cleared her throat. "I slept in your bed that night. My cunt was still wet, and I wanted nothing more than for you to shift back and —"

He pinned her to the wall by holding her hands over her head, his fingers circling her wrists. Faintly, she could hear him murmur her name before his lips came down on hers roughly. Sirius traced her lip with his tongue, nipping her bottom lip as he wedged a knee between her thighs.

"Oh," she mewled as his leg shifted, the friction delicious and unbearable altogether. "Sirius, please, I can't."

His fingers deftly ripped the zipper of her jeans down, and he pushed them slightly down her hips. "So fucking pretty," he growled, his hand sliding into her jeans and then the only barrier between his touch and her cunt was her flimsy cotton knickers. "You're wet, kitten," he whispered, his finger tracing her seam and rubbing her clit.

She choked. Oh, Merlin, his fingers felt so much better than hers. "Please, Sirius."

He sunk to his knees in front of her, not even bothering to rid her of her bottoms. Sirius lifted her legs over his shoulders, her ankles resting against his back. He pressed his mouth to her cloth covered cunt, his tongue darting out and flicking her clit. "I'm going to make you come on my tongue, kitten," he said from between her legs. "I can't wait to see you shaking, gasping-" he pulled her knickers to the side, "-and writhing for me."

At what was sure to be the _most ill-timed _moment of her entire life, the Floo downstairs opened. Hermione squeaked as she stared down at Sirius. "I'll get them to go away. Just don't stop."

He chuckled. "You're under the assumption I care if someone hears you crying out. I'll fuck you over breakfast at the Burrow." And there was the possessive streak that she'd always expected.

She didn't touch on how much the idea excited her, or why it was a truly terrible idea.

Ginny's voice rung out across the second floor. "Hermione Granger! Where are you?"

Hermione spelled her door shut before the redhead's hand ever reached the doorknob. "What do you want?" She called back just as Sirius vanished her knickers. Bloody hell, she'd loved that pair.

"Cormac just fire-called me," Ginny shouted, and there was a distinct thud against the door that was probably her foot. "He was most disappointed to tell me how you completely ditched him."

As much as Hermione would have liked to lie and say she truly cared about anything Ginny had to say, her focus was on the man between her thighs that had her lifted and pinned to the door. "You knew I didn't want to go on a blind date."

Sirius' head dipped between her legs, and his tongue slid against her clit.

Her eyes rolled back in her head and her head fell to the door with a quiet, but resounding thud.

"I told you it was just so you could get a good shag, Hermione. Merlin knows you've had a stick lodged up your arse for who knows how long," Ginny said, completely exasperated as she tried to wiggle the door knob. "Open the door, you ruddy coward."

"My sex life is perfectly fine, Ginny."

"Sex toys do not count," came the loud reply.

Sirius, apparently, had decided that Hermione wasn't being vocal enough. He slid one finger into her, and then two. His tongue lapped quickly against her clit and her fingers sunk into his hair.

"Oh, fuck," Hermione shrieked, pressing herself closer to him, well aware that she looked every bit the part of a wanton whore. "Oh, fuck, _there_!" She gasped.

Ginny squealed. "You could have told me you were busy, you daft bint."

Sirius was grinning at Hermione, his fingers pumping into her and curling inside of her as he pushed her toward an orgasm.

"I'm fucking busy!" Hermione snapped. Ginny could not have even reached the stairs before she screamed.

To her disappointment, Sirius didn't take her to bed that night, not in the way she wanted. Even so, he didn't shift into his Animagus form, and he draped her across his bare chest

* * *

_May 2000_

_Ministry of Magic _

They weren't shagging, but they had done nearly everything else. Hermione didn't understand it, but she didn't question it either. Too enthralled with the times his teeth scraped her nipples, or he slid down between her legs, or even the times she had sunk to her knees to take his thick cock in her mouth, Hermione found that she couldn't complain much at all.

The month of May served for a lot of things: the remembrance of the war, of those they had lost, and the day that Sirius Black had returned to them all. You see, falling out of the Veil simply wasn't heard of. Neither was falling in for that matter, but clearly it had happened. Teams of Unspeakables still had no idea how it had happened, but there was no denying that The-Boy-Who-Lived was due a miracle every once in a while.

Hermione also found that she didn't sleep as much in the month of May. She was overwhelmed by the complete absence of purpose. The Ministry all but closed down when it came to the week of May 2nd, and she wasn't all too sure what to do with herself if she wasn't working.

The first person she thought of was Remus Lupin, and then Nymphadora Tonks. Sirius sat in the drawing room of Grimmauld, silent, and in mourning. He'd lifted his head as she hovered in the doorway, and waved her off. She understood the need to be alone, and she left lunch out in the kitchen under a Stasis charm, right beside a bottle of Firewhisky. She'd left a note that she would drink it with him if he liked.

Next, it felt as if a spear had been run through her as she walked through Diagon Alley. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was closed for the day, and with a heavy sigh, she briefly considered Apparating into the flat above the shop. But he would need his time alone just as anyone else.

Hermione Granger stood silently in the middle of Diagon Alley, forced to face the fact that the only reason she wanted to help everyone else was so that she wouldn't be forced to help herself.

* * *

The celebration for the final downfall of Tom Riddle was inevitably a large one. Hermione stood at the bar, conveniently placed across the large room in the Ministry. All around her, people mingled and laughed.

She would rather be anywhere but there.

"Are you going to drink the entire bar, kitten?" Hermione didn't turn at the sound of his voice. "Shall I take your silence as a yes? I'll help you then." Sirius took the seat beside her, clinking the tumbler that was slid into his grip not even a moment later against hers. "Are you okay?"

Her shoulders slumped. "Rarely am I ever okay on this day."

He nodded.

"They all want to celebrate, and I understand, I understand so much," Hermione began quietly, her fingers sliding against her frosted glass.

Sirius drained his drink in two long swallows, and she reached out to wipe the drop that slid down his stubble. "I know, love."

"It's just," she broke off, her eyes burning, "I know that there's cause for celebration. Voldemort is not coming back, but at the same time, I hate the thought that the celebration dwarfs the losses we suffered. Our friends, our family, and —"

He gripped her chin and made her look at him. His eyes were somber, and he ran a thumb across her lips, something he was doing more and more frequently. "You need to breathe, love."

Hermione hiccuped as she willed herself not to cry. "Sometimes I wonder if this huge celebration will inevitably make Tom Riddle even more famous, and that's exactly something he would have wanted."

Sirius sighed. "I think you've had enough," he murmured as she tried to ask for another drink. "Come on. Let me take you home."

Once off the stool, she peered up at him. "Will you help me forget?"

* * *

Sirius Apparated them into their home, his arm still fixed around her waist. He did make her forget, just not in the way she expected. Still, Hermione couldn't find it in her to complain as she laid down beside him in his bed. His sheets and his blanket were disheveled, and he propped his head up on his hand.

Hermione thought it was the most she'd ever told a person in one sitting, and Sirius listened intently, happy to hear about anything she would discuss. He asked about her parents, and she told him how they were far away. In turn she learned things about the Ancient and Noble House of Black that made her skin crawl.

Walburga Black deserved a worse death than she'd received.

Hermione traced circles on his skin as he told her about his days in Hogwarts, about James, Remus, and though he gritted his teeth at the mention of him, Peter. "Did he suffer when he died?" Hhe asked.

She paused before she nodded. "He was strangled to death slowly. I think it gave him a long time to think about just what he had done to his closest friends. Before he-" she couldn't bring herself to say the words "-before it happened, what were all of you like in school?"

He snorted, traces of Firewhisky still on his breath. "They were all my best friends, but people used to say you never saw me or James Potter without the other."

She smiled. "You really loved them, didn't you?"

"I think about Remus and James every day. It seems fitting that if they're dead, at the very least, they're with their wives," Sirius murmured. "Lily would have liked you."

That was a nice thought. "I'd have liked to meet Lily and James Potter. I've seen them in photos, but sometimes it's hard to believe how young they were, how bad the world must have been then."

Sirius paused, and then he slid across the bed. His hand rested on her hip while he peered down at her. "We were kids."

"So were we, if I'm honest. Though I don't like to think of myself as a kid around you," Hermione replied snarkily. "It might scare you off."

He pressed his lips to hers gently, threading his fingers through her hair. And there was something, as clichéd as she _knew_ it sounded, absolutely magical about it.

Merlin, she was fucked.

* * *

_June 2000_

_Grimmauld Place _

In hindsight, she knew how they had gotten here in his bed, their clothes scattered over the floor, with her gasping as he held her arms over her head. Logically, Hermione knew that they had been headed here since January, the turn of the new year where she had silently promised herself to take life by the horns. After all, Hermione had been sleeping in his bed, using him for comfort for months.

And they hadn't been able to keep their hands to themselves for nearly as long.

But in the short span, she had _no_ fucking clue how she had ended up here, but she certainly wasn't complaining. Still, her mind was spinning. How had they gone from breakfast, brewing tea - shite, had they left the kettle on? - and walking around each other in the kitchen, to this?

Hermione's hips were held down by large hands as he pressed his lips to her belly. "Why now?" She asked, bucking against his fingers as two slid into her.

"I'm so fucking tired of you prancing around in your knickers and never bending you over my knee like the cheeky little witch you are," he growled, rolling her nipple between his teeth.

Hermione whimpered.

"Would you like that, kitten? I'll redden your arse," Sirius murmured as he peppered her chest in kisses, his tongue sliding along her hardened nipple.

Hermione realized she had muttered an agreement when he flipped her onto her back. Totally nude, Hermione sighed and relaxed into the bed as his hands slid up her legs, massaging her. The first swat took her by surprise. "Oh," she whimpered, gripping the sheets.

His hand came down again, no doubt truly reddening her skin, and then he rubbed her arse. Sirius' fingers dipped between her legs, sliding along her folds. "Fuck, you're always so wet."

Hermione let out a garbled reply as he fingered her, his thumb brushing the tight ring of her arse before he drew back. "I want you," her voice was muffled against the pillows. "Sirius, no teasing, please!"

She didn't need to turn around to know that he was most likely smirking. "Can I fuck you anyway I want?" He rasped. Sirius gripped her hips, pulling her onto her knees, and he placed his hand in the middle of her back to hold her down. "Like this?"

Her nod was desperate, near pleading for him to slam into her and fuck her into the mattress they had already been sharing for months. Hermione whined when he didn't oblige her, but chuckled and kissed up her spine. "You're teasing." she growled.

"Am I?"

She mewled as the head of his cock slid against her, barely pressing into her cunt. Hermione pushed herself back only for him to swat her arse and hold her in place. "Sirius," Hermione gasped, wiggling her hips and attempting to take him all at once.

His fingers slid along her spine, causing her to shiver. "Are you sure?" Sirius muttered, and she almost didn't hear it.

Hermione arched her back as she nodded. "Please, Sirius, I need—" her eyes fluttered shut as he slammed into her. It was unlike what she'd experienced with any other partners. He was thick, she knew that. She'd been on her knees, or straddling his face several times. But there was something to be said about how he stretched her.

Sirius stilled, groaning loudly as his fingers dug into her hips. He moaned her name as he slid nearly out of her, and then she impaled herself on his cock. "Fucking hell, you're tight."

It could be considered a good thing that he couldn't see her face because she grinned rather stupidly. "Harder," she begged.

He must have expected her to want soft and gentle for the first time, and her pleading made him snap. Sirius held her in place, growling how tight her little cunt was wrapped around his cock, how this was the best view he'd ever had in his life. He pounded into her roughly, coaxing her to be as loud as she fucking wanted. "Let me hear you, kitten," Sirius said as he gripped her hair, pulling lightly when he realized she liked it.

Sirius reached below her, rubbing her clit until she was right on the edge of an orgasm and she screamed.

It was beyond pleasing to discover he wasn't near done with her.

He rolled her onto her back, settling between her thighs and lifting her legs over his shoulders. Sirius watched her closely, his lips curved by his own pleasure as he slid into her. He'd slid a pillow under her bum, and she was slowly going mad.

Hermione was delirious, incapable of forming a coherent sentence. It was certainly a lot of "Fuck yes, there," "Sirius, please," and intelligible whimperings.

He'd made her come again on his cock, and then he asked, "Can you come for me again, kitten?"

Hermione choked. It wasn't bloody possible. "No." She shivered as he slid down her body.

"Oh, I think you can," he murmured, his tongue flattening against her clit. "For me, kitten?" Sirius worked her carefully, his fingers moving just as she liked. Though she thought it impossible, it was only minutes before she was coming again.

Sirius dragged her to the foot of the bed swiftly, and slid into her as she rode out her orgasm, and he fucked her through it. He pulled her up, settling onto his haunches as he held her in his lap, kissing her roughly. "That's it, love," he murmured, tugging her by the hair so her head would fall back.

His lips were on her throat. "Oh, Merlin," she shuddered as his movements stilled and she stared up at him. "Sirius,"

"Shh," he grinned. "How do you feel?"

She rolled her eyes. "You are fishing for compliments, Sirius Black. I feel utterly spent and thoroughly shagged."

He pressed a kiss to her temple. "How do you feel about having dinner tonight?"

Dumbly, she said, "We have dinner every night."

He snorted. "A date, love. I want to show you off."

Oh. A slow smile slid across Hermione's face. "That sounds lovely. Do you have any ideas?"

He smirked. "Not yet, but don't wear knickers. I'm going to finger you under the table," he replied, kissing her throat.

She squeaked.


End file.
